


Five Times Naito Missed His Opportunity, and One Time He Didn't

by lamentomori



Category: Professional Wrestling, 新日本プロレス | New Japan Pro-Wrestling
Genre: Fluff, M/M, five plus one trope
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-13
Updated: 2018-02-13
Packaged: 2019-03-17 14:25:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,151
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13660851
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lamentomori/pseuds/lamentomori
Summary: Five occasions that Tetsuya could, and probably should, have kissed Hiromu, and the one time he finally did.





	Five Times Naito Missed His Opportunity, and One Time He Didn't

First Miss

Watching the Young Lions is generally not a chore. They're enthusiastic, and regardless of their age, they seem _so_ young. It’s like watching kids in a playground, something that prods at your humanity and fills you with joy. This current batch seem okay, apart from one of them. A little squishy thing that seems to be nothing but charisma. Naito has all the talent, all the skills, but he's always felt like he's got none of the charisma. This little squishy thing that's so terrible at everything, he even fucked up running the ropes, has the entire class behind him. He's awful, genuinely terrible, but he's _so_ charismatic. He's got the brightest smile. The prettiest eyes. The most enthusiastic nature. But none of the wrestling skills a wrestler needs.

Everyone clears out, leaving the awful little thing in the ring with kind claps on the back and calls of encouragement. He’s terrible, but _everyone_ is rooting for him. The jeering apathy of a crowd is something this little lion will never experience because he _oozes_ charisma.

“Oi!” Naito has not given his feet permission to approach the ring. He’d certainly not wanted to call out to the mess in the ring. He looks genuinely horrified, and impressed when he spots Naito, and scrambles to his feet, his head bowed, looking frantically humble. Naito catches his chin, lifts his head up so he can look him in the eye. Once he loses this baby fat squish, he’s gonna be even more captivating. “How old are you?”

“Uh...nineteen, Naito-san.” He tries to bow again, even with his chin in Naito’s hand. He looks damn pretty staring nervously up at Naito from under his lashes.

“Would you mind if I taught you how to wrestle? It seems like no-one ever has.” He stammers yes vaguely, and nods frantically. Naito lets go of his chin, and keeps as cool an expression as he can. He's going to take this terrible little lion, and he's going to make him not just competent, he's going to make him amazing.

 

Second Miss

He's happy to be back in Mexico. He's tired of Japan. He's tired of his position there, tired of bowing his head to people he gives zero fucks about. In Mexico he's welcomed back with open arms, and cheering crowds. His Young Lion, he's claimed the worst Young Lion ever as his own, is picking him up. It's been a long time since he saw his terrible little lion, and he's unsure how he feels about that.

“Hey! Naito-san!” A relief isn’t quite how Naito would describe hearing Hiromu, it's been a long time, but it is good to hear his voice again. It’s certainly not a relief to see him again. When he’d left for his excursion to Mexico, Hiromu had been a shaven-headed, slightly squishy, over enthusiastic puppy. The man standing grinning at him, waving with familiar over enthusiasm is no puppy. It has to be the hair. Grown out to his shoulders, and vibrantly red at the ends, it falls around his face perfectly, tumbling over one eye, making him look _tousled_ in an utterly filthy way.

“Hiro.” It’s as much as Naito can get out, his words have been stolen by something. He opens his arms wide, and lets Hiromu hug him tight. He smells good, as good as he looks, and he looks great. Naito hugs him back, not quite as tightly, because he's still got some dignity. “You better not have forgotten to wrestle, like you’ve forgotten to cut your hair.” Hiromu laughs, and steps away.  He awkwardly ruffles his long hair, and looks exactly like the nervous Young Lion Naito had met years ago. It's nice to know he can still summon that expression.

“You can see later. I think I’ve stayed okay, but you can tell me what you think.” Naito nods vaguely, because his words have left him.  Hiromu looking up at him from under his lashes was bad enough when he was a squishy, shaven puppy. _This_ Hiromu has no business looking at him like that. It's not just lashes anymore, it's lashes and strands of inky black and blood red hair. It's a look that belongs in the bedroom.  Naito steels himself, and ruffles the thick, soft hair on Hiromu's head.

"I'm sure you'll continue to be a disappointment, terrible little lion." He thinks he manages to keep the fondness in his heart out of his voice, but it's hard to tell when his thoughts are drowned out by the brilliant smile he gets from Hiromu.

 

Third Miss

Things are _finally_ falling into place. He's _finally_ on the right path. There is one tiny, little problem on the horizon. He's in the airport, his scarf pulled up over his mouth because he forgot his facemask, waiting for his terrible little lion. His excursion is over, he's coming home, and Naito isn't getting him straight away. He's annoyed by that, but he's interested to see if he'll be okay on his own, for a little while at least. Gedo can fuck off if he thinks Naito isn't going to have his terrible little lion in his gang. Hiromu _will_ be by his side by the end of the year, but that means Hiromu will be by his side by the end of the year. It won't be the Hiromu of old either, it'll be the new Hiromu, all filthy smiles, burning gazes, and that damn hair. Hair should not cause so many problems, but Hiromu's long hair caused terrible problems for Naito when he was in Mexico.

"Naito-san!" Hiromu sounds as enthusiastic and gleeful as ever, as he bounds over to Naito looking as much like a puppy as a human being can. Naito holds his arms wide, and lets himself be hugged. The red tips that are poking out from underneath the beanie on Hiromu's head are unexpectedly bright, and short.

"You remembered how to cut your hair?" Naito's resentful. He doesn't sound it, but he is. If Hiromu's hair is shorter, it's not going to fall into his eyes anymore, which is the best and the worst thing ever.

"You complained it was too long." Hiromu offers him a smile, the nervous smile of old. Naito curses the sway he has over his terrible little lion. If Hiromu didn't listen to him, there'd still be strands of blood tipped, ink black hair falling in his eyes. If Hiromu didn't listen to him, he'd not be able to summon that pretty, nervous smile.

"I like the new red though." Naito steals the beanie, using his comment on the colour as an excuse. He's actually checking to see how much shorter his hair is, and if it still falls into Hiromu's eyes. It does. Excuse or not, he does genuinely like the red. It's brilliantly vibrant, like freshly spilt blood, and it suits the wrestler Hiromu has become.

"Yeah...the red suits me, right?" Hiromu ducks his chin, and looks up at Naito. He needs to broach the subject of that look. It's a weapon, one he's sure Hiromu doesn't know he's wielding, or he does and he plays innocently sweet far too well. He's certain that isn't the case though, his terrible little lion isn't capable of such manipulation. 

 

Fourth Miss

"I won!" Maniacal laughter, then Naito has an armful of enthusiastic Hiromu. His legs are wrapped around Naito's waist, his arms clinging to Naito's shoulders, his grinning face inches from Naito's own.

"I see." Naito is well practiced in the art of not reacting to his terrible little lion's antics. "It only took six years." Hiromu's grin fades a little, his feet return to the floor, his arms fall to his sides. "Not too bad for the worst Young Lion ever." Naito ruffles his hair, and pulls him into a hug. If he's hugging him, Hiromu can't turn that infectious grin on him again, and he can't turn use _the look_ on him. Naito's feeling proud enough that that look would be too much for him to ignore.

"Thank you." Hiromu squeezes him tightly. He sounds impossibly sincere. He remains clinging to Naito even when he lets him go. "Thank you for all of your time, and your faith in me, Naito-san." He lets go, and steps away from him in a bow. Shades of the nervous, timid Young Lion Naito had taken under his wing show in Hiromu's posture.

"Hiromu..." Naito trails off when his terrible little lion looks up at him. It reminds of when he'd invited Hiromu to join Los Ingobernables de Japon. It summons the memory of Hiromu locking eyes with him, as his tongue run up the cap in Naito's hand. He couldn't shake the thought of that tongue on his body. He's spent years thinking about his terrible little lion in ways he shouldn’t, but that is the first thought he's never been able to shake after a few minutes. Possibly because it’s a memory, not an idle fantasy. He's had many shameful moments, in many shameful showers, with the image of Hiromu's eyes locked on his, imaging his tongue pressed against Naito's skin, not that cap in his head. It's an image that's only been supplemented by Hiromu's interactions with Kushida. Naito had never been jealous of the now former Junior Heavyweight Champion, until Hiromu started all but nuzzling his groin. Naito catches Hiromu's chin, and tilts his face up. Impulse has him trailing his thumb over Hiromu's jaw, reason has him ignoring how he'd rather be stroking Hiromu's lips. "I'm proud of you, terrible little lion." Hiromu's face lights up, and Naito has an armful of him once more.

"Thank you, Naito-san." Hiromu clings to him, and Naito indulges him for as long as he can keep the image of Hiromu looking up at him from the other side of that hat out of his mind.

 

Fifth Miss

Hiromu leaves the ring. He shuffles up the ramp. There's a sad trail of stuffing behind him. He didn't even bump Naito's fist. The question now is does he kill Fale, or does he find Hiromu. He should avenge the stupid stuffed cat that Hiromu has been clinging to since he lost his belt, but he should also make sure his terrible little lion is okay. He's not. Just watching him shuffle his way up the ramp made it clear he wasn't okay. He's no idea how to go about making it better for him. Hiromu needs to have it made better. He needs someone to make him feel better, and Naito will be damned if he lets anyone else make _his_ terrible little lion feel better, so he’ll work out the how on the fly.

"Hiro!" Naito pushes open the locker room door, and calls out. The only sound is that of a shower running. "Hiro?" He knows it's Hiromu in there, the rest of them are who knows where. Sanada, Bushi, and Evil will be fine, and are hopefully pulling Fale apart. Daryl's corpse is bundled carefully in Hiromu's jacket, it's face covered. It looks oddly ominous, and curiously disturbing. "Hiro?" Naito pushes open the door to the showers, and curses to himself when all he can see is a wall of steam. He should take his boots off before he goes in there, but under the sound of the showers, he hears a sob, and his boots will dry. Hiromu needs him. He's curled up in a corner, not even under any of the showerheads, and still fully dressed. Naito strides over to him, and drops to his knees in front of him.

"Go away." Hiromu whispers so quietly it's almost lost in the roar of the showers. Naito reaches out, and smoothes Hiromu's hair back from his face.

"C'mere." Naito pulls him into his arms. The moment Naito touches him, Hiromu breaks down. His shoulders heaving, his sobs deep and miserable, like he's laying his very soul bare. Naito says nothing, he cradles Hiromu close, and lets him cry. There's no words he can offer that wouldn't be hollow and pointless.

"Thank you." Hiromu murmurs once he's stopped crying, and he's stayed cradled against Naito for what feels like a hours. Hiromu sounds broken, or at least horrible damaged. He tries to pull away from Naito, but he refuses to let Hiromu go. Naito rubs his back, and holds him tighter.

"You're going to shower. Then you're coming with me, and we're going to sleep." Naito isn't going to let Hiromu out of his sight. Not tonight, nor tomorrow when they go hunting for a seamstress to tend to Daryl's wounds. Where they’ll find one is a problem, but it’s one for tomorrow. Tonight is more important. His terrible little lion needs him, and Naito has yet to let him down.

 

First Kiss

It's late. The streetlights stop halfway into the park they're cutting through, but the moon is bright and the stars are kind of visible. The others have all headed to a bar to celebrate Sanada and Evil winning the tag belts. Hiromu had been too sullen to go with them. He's been quiet since he lost. His eyes on the floor, he'd offered Naito condolences over his own lose, and tried to leave on his own. They're both failures. They were both trying to win championships, and they both failed miserably. It doesn't matter how good the match was, they both failed. Naito had offered to walk him home, and after a moment's pause, Hiromu had agreed. 

"I guess I get to reclaim the title of worst Young Lion ever." Hiromu laughs softly, and rubs a hand over his face. "Sorry."

"I failed too...I'm the worst Young Lion." Naito bumps Hiromu's shoulder, and forces a smile to his face.  He's annoyed with himself. He could have done better. He should have done better. He should have ignored his desires to have the crowd behind him, and put Okada away the destino, not gone for flashy shit, that’s always failed him, off the top rope. Hiromu falls to the snow covered ground suddenly with a laugh, and grins up at Naito.

"I'm the worst...lemme be the best at something, even if it is being the worst." Hiromu holds a hand up to the sky. "It's  _so_ far away, isn't it?" There's snow caught in Hiromu's hair. It’s glinting in the bright moonlight like diamonds. He's staring up at the stars, utterly ignoring Naito. "Come lie down with me." Hiromu's still staring up at the stars, a half smile on his lips, and fond look in his eyes. "It's not that cold, c'mon." Naito sits on the snow bank beside Hiromu. Cold or not, being entirely wet isn’t something he wants. "Do you remember that kid's movie...the one with the moving toys?"

"Akira?" Naito leans back on his elbows, and stares up at the stars. "I don't think it was kids’ movie though...the toys were creepy as fuck."

"No...American movie...Toy Story. Do you remember it?" Hiromu gaze turns to Naito from the stars. "I was just thinking about the cowboy..."

"Why?" There's a distant look in Hiromu's eyes, like he's lost in his own thoughts. He shakes his head, and looks away from Naito.

"It doesn't matter." Hiromu shakes his head. "Reach for the sky..." He laughs, and closes his eyes. It's started snowing again, soft, fat flakes, that land on Hiromu's face, and stand out in his hair. Naito turns to the stars to watch the snow falling on them both. "It's too high up to reach, isn't it?" He laughs again, and Naito can feel the weight of his gaze on him.  

"Hiromu, I believe in you. If you wanna reach the sky, then you will." Naito doesn't look away from the stars. It's nice to be quiet and still for a change. Usually, they're moving constantly, working constantly, always something constantly. "It might be a little late for an astronaut career change though." Hiromu's shifts beside him, his head rests on Naito's hip. He smiles up at Naito, the awkwardly gentle smile of an overly enthusiastic nineteen-year-old child, who has all of the charisma but none of the skills to be a wrestler. It's a smile that Naito hasn't seen in years. 

"It's not really the sky I wanna reach, Naito-san." Hiromu's staring up at him from under his eyelashes in that same way he did that first time in the ring. It's been a long time since that first night, but the worst Young Lion ever is still there, still nervous, still desperately impressed with even a shred of Naito’s attention.

"You know my name, Hiro, use it." Naito touches his cheek lightly, and Hiromu nuzzles against his hand.

"Tetsuya...it sounds strange." He murmurs, his eyes closed, his cheek pressed against Naito's hand.

"I like it." Naito shifts, dislodging Hiromu's head from his hip. "It's cold." He gets to his feet, and offers Hiromu his hand. He looks offended for a second, but quickly he covers it up with a lazy smirk. Hiromu lets Naito pull him to his feet. "You gotta be freezing, lying in the snow like that." He takes Hiromu into his arms, and holds him tight. The back of his coat is soaked, and cold. If he gets sick Naito will blame himself, and ask Bushi to make Hiromu soup.

"I'm okay." Hiromu's quiet, almost still in his embrace, like he was afraid to move too much. "I'll keep reaching." He laughs softly, and tries to pull away. Naito holds him firm.

"I can help." Naito slips one hand from around Hiromu's body into his hair. He's glad Hiromu grew it out longer again, it makes it easier to subtly stroke it in the ring. The hand in Hiromu's hair stops him from being able to shake his head, rejecting Naito’s offer of help."Lemme help you, my terrible little lion." That comment earns him a quiet little moan. Naito tenses, realising that he's never actually _claimed_ Hiromu before. _Terrible little lion_ is something he's called Hiromu for years, but he's never vocalised the possessive. His desire _own_ Hiromu has always been his secret. Hiromu pulls away just enough to meet Naito's eyes. He looks slightly thrown, like he once more needs Naito's guidance. He should have done this years ago, instead of stamping down his desires, he should have given Hiromu the kiss he so obviously waiting for, so obviously wanting. He leans down to press his lips to Hiromu's, but Hiromu pulls away. He looks unnerved, like he can't quite believe what's happening. "I've wanted this for years, Hiro...I've wanted this, _you_ , for years."

"Nai...Tetsuya?" Naito pulls him back, kisses him like he should have years ago, kisses him the way he deserves, kisses him like he will again, and again.


End file.
